


What Happens in Vegas

by strawberry_pills



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_pills/pseuds/strawberry_pills
Summary: Reddington and the task force head over to Nevada to catch a blacklister. Things didn't go well as planned.





	1. Waking Up In Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> I sucked at summaries, sorry! This was based off a dream I had last night (it's sort of a The Blacklist x The Hangover fusion lol) Apologies again if the characters seemed OOC. It's a crackfic :))

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Donald rolled over and felt for the alarm clock but his hand landed on nothing but an empty bedside table.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

It didn’t sound like his alarm clock. It was more of a shrill beep than a constant monotone beep.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

He rolled over to his other side, darting out his arm in search for it but it landed on someone’s face instead. _What the hell?_ Donald looked up and came face to face with a sleeping Raymond Reddington.

“Jesus Christ!” He jerked backwards too far and fell off the bed.

“Can someone turn that off please? Someone’s trying to get a sleep here.” Came a woman’s muffled pleading voice on the other side of the room.

_Was that Samar?_

Slowly, Donald pushed himself off the floor and every part of body started to ache. The world lurched forward and he fell back face down on the floor. “Fuck!”

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

He gathered all his strength, closed his eyes, and once again pushed himself up off the floor. This time he made it into a sitting position. Donald looked around him. It looked like he was in a hotel room. A wrecked hotel room. And worst of all, he was not alone. His mind started screaming 'Anslo Garrick part 2'. _No, not again._ Panic seized him and he stood up too quickly. His stomach became furious and demanded to be relieved of its contents.

Donald bolted out the door into the main room. Apparently, he had a suite. He glanced around for a bathroom, all the doors were closed. "Fuck," he screamed inside his mind. He picked the door closest to him and ran for it. Suddenly he found himself on the floor again and his stomach wouldn't wait another minute. He threw up right there, one foot shy of the bathroom.

He got on his elbows and looked back. His right foot was resting on Samar's stomach. Apparently, he had tripped over her in all his excitement to get to a bathroom. "Samar," he whimpered like a child with the flu. "Samar."

"Hmm?" she hummed not opening her eyes.

“Where are we? What the hell happened? And why do I feel like I just had the worst hangover of my life?”

"Take some Alka Seltzer and go back to sleep."

"No, Samar, something is really wrong," Donald whined.

Samar reached next to her to grab her phone. And that's when she noticed her bed was really hard and there was a strange beeping. She opened her eyes. That was not her ceiling. "What in the hell?"

Donald wretched again. "Oh God, I'm really sick."

Samar rolled onto her side and propped herself up on an elbow. She looked around the room and started to worry. "Where in the hell are we?"

"I don't know. I just woke up and Reddington was beside me sleeping! Oh no!" He threw up once more and this time Samar crawled over to him and patted his back.

"I'm not feeling so hot myself," she admitted holding back the urge to vomit. “You said Reddington is here?”

“Yeah he’s still fast asleep in the bedroom.” Donald wiped some of the vomit left on his mouth.

"Why is this happening? Have you seen Aram or Liz?"

"No. I just saw you when I tripped."

"What the hell is that beeping sound?"

"I don't know." Donald finally stopped vomiting. "I think I'm ok now."

"Let's get you up and hose you off," Samar replied helping him to his feet. She opened the bathroom door, the place was a wreck. Toilet paper, a slippery substance that smelled like shampoo, and all kinds of odds and ends littered the floor.

Someone had drawn smiley faces and hearts on the mirror in red lipstick (Samar has a faint idea who might've done this) and the shower curtain was in tatters on the rod. "I don't want to have to pay for this."

"I haven't felt like this since college."

"I was having the same thought. Excuse me." Samar bent down over the toilet and politely threw up. She waited a couple of seconds, righted herself, and flushed. "We need to find some toothbrushes and toothpaste."

"And Liz."

"And Liz, and Aram, or anyone else who may have been with us. God! What happened last night?"

"I don't know. Why aren't you as sick as me?"

"I think we got drunk. I’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol."

"Lucky."

"You feeling ok?"

"Better than I was a second ago."

"Let's explore the suite." Samar walked back into the main room which was as much of a disaster as the bathroom. "This is insane. It’s like a murder scene here."

"What the hell did we do? Did we kill someone?"

"Hopefully not. Let’s go get Reddington.” They made their way back over to the bedroom where the man in question was now lying face down with an arm dangling on the edge of the bed.

“Reddington wake up.” Samar poked Red on the side.

"Lizzie," he moaned. "Oh no." And like the other two, he wretched.

"I just realized something," Donald said as he helped Red up off the bed.

"What?" Samar asked.

"These aren't my clothes." He’s wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian orange and green shirt and khaki pants. "And I don't think you dress anything like that either." He pointed at Samar’s outfit.

She looked down at her own hot pink tube dress. "Hell no."

"I don't think this is mine either," Red added gesturing toward his rumpled beige mandarin shirt.

"Strange place, new clothes, and no memory of anything. Sounds like the plot of a good comedy film," Donald joked.

"We need a phone," Samar said.

"And to stop that god awful beeping," Red added.

"What is that fucking beeping noise?" Samar yelled looking around the living area.

"Aha!" Donald yanked a hotel phone out from under the table. "Beeping!" He yanked on it, unplugging the infernal thing from the wall. "Problem solved."

"I've died twice before but this is worse," Red sobbed.

"It's a hangover, you'll live," Samar assured him.

“Where the hell are we? And where the hell is Lizzie?”

"We’ve been asking that ourselves for the last half hour—except the ‘where is Lizzie’ part.” Samar started poking around. “When you're done puking you'll feel better. In the meantime, Ressler and I are going to hunt for clues."

"I have a menu for Wong's," Donald said holding up a Chinese takeout menu.

"Never heard of it."

“That’s Lizzie’s favorite restaurant.” Red piped in.

“I’m not gonna ask how you knew that.” Donald said.

"This reminds me of that time I got stuck in a dessert naked and had to hitchhike back to the city. At least I'm not naked this time." Red stood up and shakily made his way to the curtains in front of him. He needed some fresh air. He pulled them back and freaked out. "Oh wow! Hey guys?"

"Not in the mood for your stories right now, Reddington," Donald grumbled.

"No you have to see this."

"Look for something that'll help us figure out what happened," Samar told him.

"You don't understand."

"You don't feel good we know. Neither do we now help," Donald barked.

Red huffed.

"Now look…" Donald looked over and realized instantly what Red was looking at. "Fuck."

"What is it?" Samar asked looking up from the floor.

"It's not DC," Red replied.

"What the hell are you…fuck!" Samar and Donald joined Red at the window. Outside and below them was a barrage of bright lights. "This can't be…"

"We didn't…"

"We did. We're in Vegas," Red said plainly.

"How in the hell did we get to Vegas?" Samar asked.

"I don't know," Donald replied panicked. "I don't know anything!"

"We need to just calm down…" Red started.

"I will not calm down! I am in Vegas! I don't know how I got here, I'm not wearing my clothes, and we're in a wrecked hotel room!" Donald screamed. _Anslo Garrick part 2. Anslo Garrick part 2. Anslo Garrick part 2._

Samar looked worriedly at Donald. She's pretty sure he's having a meltdown but she doesn't know what to do about it. Red was just standing there looking between Donald and the view outside the window. _Ugh. I need Cooper right now._

"Gentlemen! And lady."

Everyone turned around and were more than slightly confused to be standing in the same room as Anthony Hopkins.

"Thank you for the fun times. This should cover my share." He handed Donald a ball of money. "I threw up in the bedroom over there. Sorry." And with that, he walked out the door.

“Why the hell is Hannibal Lecter in a wrecked hotel suite with us?”

"Please tell me I didn’t have sex with him last night," Samar asked in all seriousness.

"Until someone provides us with photographic evidence, let’s just say you didn’t have sex with Anthony Hopkins," Red told her.

"Agreed," Samar replied.

"Alright, we need to think," Red went on. "Let's grab our things and head downstairs to get some food."

“Seriously?! Food?” Donald asked.

“No one can think on an empty stomach Donald.”

"Where are our things?" Samar asked.

"Oh!" Red cried scooping a satchel and a handbag off the couch. "If they're not ours, they are now."

 


	2. Saturday Mornin' Comin' Down

Samar, Donald and Red stepped onto the elevator, avoiding eye contact with the other two guests (except Red). The couple got off on the next floor and the trio continued alone.

"Do we know what hotel we're in?" Samar asked.

"Judging by the decorations, I'd say the Venetian," Red answered looking around the elevator. “I’ve been here a couple of times.

"We wrecked a penthouse in the most expensive hotel in Las Vegas. Wonderful," Donald sighed.

"Well more than likely we're not paying for it. We’re with number four on most wanted so no one can know we’re here. We need to figure out what happened and get back to DC," Samar said calmly.

"I'm seriously gonna get fired."

"Cheer up Donald. Judging from the state of the suite and your disheveled look, at least you had fun even though we all can't remember it," Red mused.

"Wonderful," Donald repeated.

They reached the lobby and got off the elevator. "Ok, everyone be calm and act natural," she ordered.

"Where are we going?" Donald asked.

"Just find a restaurant and we'll eat there."

"Oh! Mr. Reddington!" a man called running over to meet them.

"Jonathan!" Red greeted the receptionist.

"You used your name for the reservation? Are you kidding me?" Donald hissed.

"Just go with it Ressler," Samar told him.

"Mr. Reddington, did you still want your table at Tao?" the man asked Red.

"Um…yes?"

"Then it is ready for you whenever you're ready to eat."

"I'm hungry now so I guess we'll head over there." Red said. "Thank you Jonathan."

"I'll let the maître d’ know you're coming." He walked over to the front desk and picked up the phone.

"Why does the reception know you?" Donald asked.

"I told you, I’ve been here a couple of times. Let's just go to Tao and get dinner."

The trio head over to the said restaurant where they were greeted by the maître d’. "Good evening Mr. Reddington, Mrs. Mojtabai, and Mr. Ressler," the maître d’ greeted. "Mrs. Reddington is not joining you tonight?"

"Uh no. She needs to be somewhere," Red lied.

"I see. Right this way then." He led them to the back of the restaurant. "Is this table alright?"

"Fine. Thanks," Red replied taking a seat.

"Very good. Enjoy your meals."

"Mrs. Mojtabai?" Samar asked. "What the hell?"

"Apparently there’s a Mrs. Reddington," Red laughed although deep down he's quite nervous. This 'Mrs. Reddington' could possibly be Lizzie and Red doesn't even want to know how he convinced her to marry him.

"There isn’t a Mrs. Ressler… that sucks."

"Well if I'm Mrs. Mojtabai then that means Aram is around here somewhere."

"Why would Aram be in Vegas with us?" Donald questioned.

"Why are we in Vegas to begin with?"

"Good point."

"This explains why we're at the Venetian though. I always check in here."

"Hello!" the waiter said cheerfully. "No Mrs. Reddington tonight?"

"No she's working," Red answered.

"That's a shame. What can I get you all to drink?"

"Water," they said in unison.

"Three waters coming right up."

"This is surreal," Donald sighed. "How does this happen?"

"I don't know." Samar opened her handbag hoping to find a mirror. Instead she found balled up receipts, her engagement ring, and poker chips in various amounts.

"Hey that's a good idea." Red started digging through the satchel. "I have my wallet. At least we have money now. I also have some bubble gum, a phone, and a gun."

Samar and Donald both shoved back the gun in the satchel. "What the hell! You don't just whip out a gun in a public place!" Donald hissed.

"I'm not gonna shoot anyone Donald." Red said. "And besides, it's not loaded."

"Let me see your phone," Samar requested reaching out her hand.

Red handed it over and popped a piece of bubble gum in his mouth. "Anyone else want a piece?"

"No thanks,” Samar replied. She flipped the phone open. The battery was low but not bad. "This just got more twisted."

"Why?" Donald asked.

"This isn't Reddington's phone."

"Whose is it?"

"Judging by the wallpaper, I'd say Cooper's."

"Does that mean Cooper is in Vegas too?" Donald asked.

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe we stole it. Maybe Cooper is back in DC in a ditch somewhere."

"Is that why we're in Vegas with Reddington? We killed the FBI Assistant Director for Counter-Terrorism and asked Reddington to get us away?" Donald asked alarmed.

"Maybe."

"I figured one day one of you would," Red laughed. “My money’s on you Donald.”

“Shut it Reddington.”

"Maybe that's why the gun isn't loaded anymore."

"I swear I'm gonna choke the living hell out of you if you don't shut it."

"Ohh kinky."

Donald was about to lunge at Red but Samar hold out both her arms and blocked the two from going at it with each other. "If you two don't behave I'm gonna leave you here."

"Sorry."

"Now, what is the last thing we remember?" Samar asked.

"We’re at the bullpen. Reddington’s telling us about some blacklister," Donald answered.

"I remember that too," Red agreed.

"Me too. Remember what day that was?"

"Thursday morning."

Samar started laughing hysterically.

"Damn it Navabi! What is happening with you now?"

Red picked the phone off the table and shook his head. "Look."

Donald grabbed the phone from Red. He couldn't believe his eyes. "How in the hell can it be Saturday?"

 

* * *

 

 

They ate dinner quickly and quietly and bolted for their room the second they were done. Once back up in their suite, they started to try and piece together the last two nights.

"Alright, we can't panic," Red said as calmly as he could.

"You keep saying that but I think we have the right to panic. We've lost two days, possibly three people, and I may or may not be married," Samar replied.

"Mazletov by the way," Red added.

“Aram and I haven’t even planned anything yet!” Samar glared at him. "We need to figure out what happened to Cooper and if Aram or Liz was with us as well."

"Why don't you try calling Aram's phone?" Red suggested.

"Believe it or not, I don't actually know the number."

"See if Cooper has the number," he offered.

"I don't think…wait, he does." Samar hit the send button and waited for someone to pick up.

Red heard a faint tune playing in the bedroom Anthony Hopkins had been in. He followed it and found a cell phone on the nightstand. He picked it up and said "Hello."

"Reddington?" Samar asked.

He walked out of the bedroom with the phone in his hand. "Plan B?"

"Nobody’s looking for us so far. No big news that we killed anyone. If we did, the whole task force would've barged in us. I'd say let’s book it back to DC with Reddington's cash and figure things out from there," Samar told them taking a seat on the couch.

"I can’t fly economy. Number four most wanted, remember? Plus, the receptionist said there’s a Mrs. Reddington with us. That’s probably Lizzie," Red sighed.

“As if Keen will marry you," Donald smugly said, earning him a glare from Red. “Hey where’s Dembe by the way?”

“Oh shit Dembe. I forgot.”

"I'm calling Charlene. Maybe Cooper is with her and that'll be one less problem."

Samar hit call on Charlene’s number and it was picked up on the first ring. "Harold where the hell have you been!" Charlene screamed.

Samar pulled the phone away from her ear. "Uh hello?"

"Who is this?"

"Hi Charlene. This is special agent Samar Navabi. I work with Assistant Director Harold Cooper."

"Why are you answering his phone? Where is he?" Charlene replied sounding a bit more worried.

"I don't actually know. Look, Donald,” Samar glanced at Red unsure if she should mention that he’s with them. “Uh, and I are in a weird situation. We woke up in Vegas with no clue as to what happened these last two days."

Charlene huffed.

"Sounds like you have an idea what's been going on."

"Look, Harold doesn’t tell me everything. All he said to me was that there was an emergency going on with your task force and he had to go away."

"We honestly have no clue."

"Just please call me as soon as you find him," Charlene then hung up.

"Alright boys, we've messed up and we've messed up good. Judging by what Charlene said I'd say Cooper was with us."

"I hope I didn’t kill Cooper," Donald prayed.

"And I didn't think I would marry again but here we are," Red said. “I’m honestly surprise my face isn’t on every TV screen right now.”

Samar started to smile.

"Are you cracking over there?" Donald asked.

"No, I just had an idea. We can't go anywhere or do anything without something big happening somewhere. Like Reddington said, the news must’ve broadcasted something of the last two days."

"Why didn't we think of that earlier?"

"The shock of being in a random place with no memory will do funny things to you," Red sighed.

"Speaking from a place of experience over there?" Donald asked flipping Cooper's phone open to text messages.

Samar shook her head and flipped on the TV.

"When you’re a master criminal, all kinds of weird things happen," Red explained.

"Speaking of weird things." Samar gestured to the TV and turned the volume up.

"An explosion rocked the state of Nevada last Thursday night. There were a few injured civilians but no fatalities so far. Authorities still have no clue as to the cause of explosion," the reporter on the TV informed them.

"That’s probably why we’re here," Donald said.

“Or we’re probably the reason behind that explosion,” Red stated.

"What time was that?" Samar asked.

"Real late. Practically Friday morning. We need to go back further."

"Wonderful."

"I should try Lizzie," Red said snatching Cooper's phone away from Donald.

"Surprised you didn't do that earlier."

"Me too." He dialed Lizzie's number but it went straight to voicemail. "Well that's not good."

"Huh?"

"Lizzie's not answering."

"She’s probably in Vegas too," Donald suggested.

"I can't imagine that would be a good thing."

 


	3. Sick, Sober, and Sorry

 

Aram woke up to two people talking and to a resounding headache. He had never been this hungover in his entire life. Sure he drank when he was in college but it was mostly just two bottles of beer or a single shot of tequila. His college days were mostly spent in libraries or in front of his laptop.

He slowly got up into a sitting position and that’s when he noticed he slept on a sofa. “Why did I sleep on a sofa?” he mumbled.

As he looked around, he noticed that he’s not in his room. Judging by the posh interior, he assumed that he’s in some hotel room.

Aram stood up gingerly but it still made his head hurt. He fell back into the sofa. "Oh my God. I think I’m dying," he whined as he held his head trying to keep it from exploding.

Liz and a short man with glasses entered the living area.

“Aram! Thank God you’re finally awake!” She greeted him while handing him a glass of water. "We need to figure out what happened," Liz said calmly

"What happened is we got drunk and now I need to sleep it off,” the short man replied gruffly.

“Drunk what?” Aram asked, puzzled. Why is he in a hotel room with Liz and a strange man? “Why are we here? Liz who is this?”

“That’s Glen Carter. Reddington’s tracker.” The man in question waved at Aram. “Do you remember anything Aram?”

“No. I was actually gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Shit. Not you too.”

“Wait, you can’t remember anything?’

"This can't be happening," Liz said. "There is no way I got drunk and ran off to Vegas with the three of you—no offence Aram."

“Uh, none taken.”

“Hey! That’s rude!” Glen stomped over to the other side of the room.

She looked at Glen who is now leaning on the wall while Aram occupied the couch. _No Reddington. No Ressler. No Samar._ Although there were some signs that at some point they had been here. She picked Red’s beige fedora up off the table. "We need to look around for clues as to where the others are."

"I need sleep and vicodin," Glen replied.

"You will get neither. Throw up, drink some water, and then help me look around. Aram, get up and start looking as well."

"Who died and made you leader?" Glen hissed.

"No one but if it'll make you feel better I'll put my boot in your ass."

Aram sighed. "I need to find my phone and call Samar."

Glen made a half-assed whip sound.

"Even hungover he's a riot."

"I'm always on." He immediately spun and spilled his guts onto the floor. "I don't remember eating that."

"If you remember anything I'd be happy," Liz replied.

"I vaguely remember Dembe and Reddington bringing me here."

"Where is Dembe and Mr. Reddington, by the way?" Aram said.

“We don’t know,” Liz answered.

"And you were with us." Glen pointed to Liz.

"I sure as hell don't remember that," Liz said.

"It happened."

"Alright, can you remember if Red or Ressler or any of the task force were with us?"

"No."

"No you can't remember or no they weren't." Liz was getting annoyed now.

"No they weren't there."

"Why would we bring you out here?" Liz questioned.

"Because you needed help tracking that goddamn blacklister!" Glen yelled.

"That was my ear," Aram cried.

"Sorry."

"What is the last thing you remember Aram?" Liz asked.

"At the bullpen in the Post Office."

"That is my last memory as well." Liz said. "So, between the briefing at the bullpen and flying out to Las Vegas with Glen, we have no idea what happened," Liz grumbled.

“Perfect.” Glen replied.

“Is that Samar’s clothes?” Aram grabbed a plum colored blouse off the floor and inspected it. “It’s hers! Why is her clothes here?”

“Check for dusts!” Glen yelled.

“Why?”

“Her body might’ve turned to ashes.”

“I don’t understand.” Aram looked worried.

“Where Have All the People Gone? The film where people got sick after a solar flare then turned into as—”

“Glen you’re not helping.” Liz cut him off.

“What? I was just lightening up the mood.”

Liz ignored him and inspected the blouse Aram was holding. “So that means Samar and probably Ressler were here with us.” Liz started pacing the floor. “Glen said we’re tracking a blacklister. Maybe that’s why we’re here.”

“But that doesn’t explain why we’re hungover and have no memory of what happened.”

“Great.”

“We don’t know where they are or where are we even,” Aram continued.

“Shit.”

“And we still don’t know why I’m out here with you guys. I’m not a field agent.” Aram said. “I’m just the guy behind the computer.”

"Fucking perfect."

 

* * *

 

 

Harold Cooper looked around at the darkness that engulfed him. This can't be good. He felt the wall next to him. Smooth, cement as was the floor he was sitting on. On his other side was various objects, none of which he recognized by touch. He stood up slowly and felt around for a light switch or a pull string. He took another step, tripped over something, and fell on his side. "Ow." There was a moan under him and he realized that he had landed on a person. Harold quickly rolled off.

"Are you ok?"

"Agent Cooper? Is that you?" Dembe groaned trying to sit himself up.

"Dembe?"

"Yes. It's me."

"You wouldn't happen to know where we are would you?"

"No. And I think I'm blind."

"You're not blind. The room is just completely dark. I think it's a storage closet."

"Why are we in a closet together?"

"I wish I had an answer for you that didn't involve a lame joke."

"You're done hanging out with Agent Ressler."

Harold started to feel around the walls again until he found a door. "Aha!"

"What?"

"A door. We're getting out of here and… shit."

"I don't like that."

"It's locked."

"Shit."

 

* * *

 

"I have reached the first text Cooper got around Thursday night," Samar cried triumphantly.

"What does it say?" Donald and Red asked in unison crowding around the tiny cell phone screen.

"It’s from Cynthia Panabaker,” Samar scrolled through. “She’s asking about updates about our search for this blacklister. I still don’t know who that blacklister is.” The two agents glanced at Red.

“Don’t look at me. I can’t even remember how I got here.”

"What time was that?" Donald asked

"8 pm."

"What's next?"

"It’s about the explosion on the news.”

“That’s around midnight,” Red said.

“Last one looks like a text to Charlene saying he’ll be gone and won’t be back home till tomorrow."

"And after that?" Donald pushed.

"Nothing. There are like 30 text from Charlene and a couple more from a blocked number asking Cooper to call back."

"How do we go to Vegas, cause all this damage and no one sees it?" Donald whined.

"I don't know." Samar hit reply on one of the messages and began to type.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if one of the blocked numbers knows something."

Red crossed the main room and walked into one of the bedrooms. "Seems odd we only got a two-person suite when there are three of us."

"If that's what you find odd about this situation then we need to get your reality checked," Donald said.

Red fished around the bedroom hoping for more clues. "I found the clothes I was wearing Thursday night," he called.

"Wonderful."

"Oh shit."

Samar and Donald exchanged a look. "I don't like it when you say oh shit," Donald yelled back to him.

"My immunity deal with the government might get revoked but at least I know why we can't remember anything." Red walked into the main room holding what looked like a broken empty vial where a few drops of blue looking liquid remained.

"Raymond Reddington I swear I am going to kill you."

 


	4. Pieces of the Night

  

**Thursday Morning**

 

Red sat impatiently on a stool inside what seemed to be a makeshift laboratory in the basement of an apartment. Dembe stood on the far side of the room near the door. "I don’t understand how you can breathe in here, Raoul. The air’s so stuffy. All the money you make from these experiments and you can’t even install a ventilation system."

“You’re the one who insisted on coming down here. I told you to wait upstairs.” Raoul said as he examined what’s under the microscope.

“I was curious.” Red hopped off from the stool and started looking around. “But seriously, you got paid a huge amount from that job you did for the Zambada Cartel—”

“Which will be the first and last time I’m gonna do a job for them. Their leader—Leonne? He’s nuts.”

“Can’t you afford a fan at least?” Red continued.

“Some of my experiments need to be airtight.”

"How do you keep people out of here?"

"I have a deal with the manager. He keeps an eye on the basement and he gets a tip with the rent every month," Raoul explained.

"Money makes the world go round."

"Damn straight."

"So what are we cooking up now?" Red asked, walking over to one of the work benches and picking up a simmering test tube.

He was about to try and smell the substance when Raoul suddenly snatched it from his hand and placed it on the opposite work bench. "You don't want to do that."

“What does it do?”

“Disintegrate your insides.”

Red wiped his hands on his pants. "I should know better."

"This is my new project," Raoul said proudly holding a glass vial in his hand.

"It looks like an apple martini," Red joked.

Raoul glared at him. "Causes a lot more damage than an apple martini."

"So what does it do?"

"It kind of has the same effect as a rohypnol. Sense of ease, memory loss, so on but aside from putting a drop into a drink, once you open the vial, the liquid also emits off toxins so everyone can breathe them in."

"I like it."

"I do too."

"So have you tried them out yet?”

"Nope. It has two flaws: it evaporates quickly and the toxins don't last long on the air. You have to be in close proximity."

"Oh."

"The nice thing is it’s contagious and untraceable so if they do a test on you it won’t appear on the records.”

"Ingenious."

"I'd like to think so."

"How much?"

“Excuse me?” Raoul did a double take.

“You heard me Raoul. How much are you gonna sell it?”

“It’s not for sale Red. This is not your typical recreational drug. Besides, I haven’t tested it yet.” Raoul placed the vial back in the rack.

"Pity."

“Raymond.” Dembe approached him. “Elizabeth wants to meet.”

“Text her an address. I’ll meet her in 15 minutes,” Red replied.

“Your girl?” Raoul asked.

“Sort of,” Red smirked. “I need the chemicals I asked Raoul. Have Dembe help you pack them.”

Raoul left the basement with Dembe in tow leaving Red alone. He glanced back at the green liquid on the rack and contemplated for a second.

“Oh to hell with!” He snatched the vial and slipped it into his coat pocket. He went upstairs and soon, the two left to meet Liz.

 

* * *

 

 

Liz pulled up a block away from Red current safehouse, an apartment quite similar with Red’s Bethesda apartment. Red and her have been secretly dating for a month now and she sometimes finds it amusing how reminiscent of high school their current relationship is.

Three knocks and the door was soon opened by Dembe. “Good morning Elizabeth. He’s upstairs.”

“Thanks. Good morning too.” Liz greeted back and as she bounded up the stairs, she can hear a faint music playing from one of the rooms. As she peered from the door, Liz saw Red bent over a crate on the other side, his back to her.

"Enjoying the view sweetheart?"

Liz hadn’t realized she’d been staring at his ass for quite a while now. She gave him a look that clearly stated how not funny he was.

"That is my second favorite look of yours."

"Really? Why?"

"It just looks so cute on you and you're rarely cute. Pretty, yes. Gorgeous, for sure. Sexy, always. But cute is not every day."

Liz smiled. "Thank you."

"Aren't you going to ask what my favorite look is?"

"What is your favorite look?"

Red walked over to her and caressed her cheek. "That genuine smile you sport."

Liz smiled bigger unable to control herself. "It happens a lot more with you around."

"That's why I like it so mu—," Liz’s lips crashed onto his before he could finish his sentence.

Clothes started flinging around while they both struggle to get to a bed. Red was busy removing both their clothes that he hadn’t realized the vial was still in his coat pocket.

Midway into their make out session, Liz’s phone suddenly rang.

“Dammit! That must be Ressler.”

“Ignore it.” Red continued nibbling at her neck.

“I can’t. They’ve been haggling me since Monday to make you give us a blacklister.” Liz got up and started buttoning her blouse. “It’s actually one of the reasons why I asked to meet with you today.”

At Red’s deflated expression, Liz quickly added, “Although the thought of seeing you is really the main reason why.”

Red’s face immediately brightened at that and Liz wants nothing more than kiss him senseless but the incessant ringing of her cellphone prevented that.

“Keen.”

“What’s taking you so long?” Ressler demanded on the other end of the line. “If he’s spouting off one of his stories again, tell him to put a sock in it. We need a new blacklister.”

“Geez Ress, who hurt you?”

“Cooper’s been snapping at everyone here and I can’t take it anymore.” Liz could hear a faint rustling on the other end. “If you have to beg, then beg. I’d go over there myself and do it but he only talks to you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make him give us one.”

“Alright Keen we’re counting on you.” Ressler hung up.

Liz turned and face Red who is laying on his side and has been staring at her during her conversation with Donald. “We really need a blacklister, Red. If you don’t, Ressler or Cooper is gonna barge in here and demand it himself.”

Red grimaced at that. “Oh alright,” he raised his hands in surrender. “You go on ahead, I just need to finish unloading those things,” he pointed towards the crate he’d been looking at before.

“What are those?”

“Guan vases I got from an underground auction at Zagreb.”

“Oh.” Liz was surprised that Red told her the truth straightaway. “I guess I’ll meet you at the Post Office.” She gave him one last kiss before she upped and left.

Red slipped on the discarded coat but what he didn't realize is that the vial had break and the contents had already evaporated into the air.

 

* * *

 

 

**Present**

 

"You put that damned roofie in your coat pocket!" Donald screamed.

"I didn't even think…they weren't supposed…I'm sorry," Red said finally.

"That chemical may explain why all of us are a memory fogged mess but why did it last this long?" Samar asked.

"Alcohol my dear. We must’ve started drinking once we got to Vegas and the alcohol here is flowing like water through Atlantis and alcohol will lower your tolerance of everything."

"Jesus, Reddingon. Why did you even steal that?" Donald asked in disbelief.

"Hey, I was curious! How should I know that—uh—that the vial—uh—will break in my coat pocket?"

“When and how did it break?” Samar asked.

Red told them how he got the vial but what he didn’t tell them was how it broke. Now, he's not sure either where and how it broke but he has a hunch it happened during his and Liz’s make out session.

“I can’t remember,” he shrugged. "Look, it's over and done with. We can't change the past but we can figure out what happened and move on.”

"I thought you said it evaporates quickly." Samar said.

"Raoul said they do but he also said that he hasn’t tested it yet."

"Great. We’ve now become lab rats," Ressler replied sarcastically.

 


	5. Luck Be A Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know where this story is going anymore lol

 

Harold Cooper had been pacing the room for a while now. Dembe may not see it but the constant click of his footsteps gives it away. Every now and then he would also grunt and curse something under his breath.

"You need to relax."

"Excuse me?"

"I know you're not used to this sort of thing but in our world it happens."

Truth was, Harold had been in crazier places back when he was fresh out of the Academy. But this is different. This isn't Special Agent Harold Cooper. This is Assistant Director Harold Cooper. "You're right, it isn't my average Tuesday."

"Now you're being ridiculous, waking up in a closet is on Mondays."

“Between you and Reddington, I thought you were the sane one but now I’m starting to doubt it.”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

"Good. You could do that by helping me get the door open."

"How?"

"Throw your weight up against it with me."

"Fine." Dembe stood up and felt around until he found Harold’s shoulder. "On the count of jump?"

"What?"

"You know... on the count of jump. Wait for it...  jump! Robin Hood Men in Tights. Mel Brooks movie... classic. You need to get out from that cave you all call the Post Office and catch up on pop culture."

"On the count of three," Harold sighed. "One, two, three!" They both ran straight ahead and into the door.

Harold toppled backward and Dembe flew back to his spot on the floor.

"Ow."

"Yeah. Ow."

“I’m getting too old for this.”

“Me too,” Dembe agreed.

 

* * *

 

 

Liz was having no luck finding clues in the hotel room and having even less luck trying to get the two to help. Aram looked around sadly for his phone while Glen tried to take a nap on the couch. "Can one of you please help me?"

"After I find my phone and call Samar to let her know I'm alright."

Glen raised his head towards Liz. "What?"

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"I'm trying to remember Thursday."

"And?"

"I don't remember much after getting into the plane."

"Aha!" Aram cried springing up from the floor with a phone held triumphantly in the air. "Wait... this isn't my phone."

"Whose is it?"

"I think it's Ressler's phone." Aram showed the phone to Liz. The screen showed a wallpaper of Captain America.

"Well let's use it and call the others." Liz ordered.

"Battery is good!"

“Now!"

"Alright! I’m dialing." Aram fumbled through the phone trying to call Samar. “Shit.”

“Uh oh.” Glen said.

“Aram what happened?” Liz asked.

“It went straight to voicemail.” Aram replied.

“Try my phone. Maybe someone has it.”

“Not answering either.”

“Shit.”

“That’s what I said.” Aram said. “Do you know Mr. Reddington’s number?”

“No. He switch phones every two days.”

“Fantastic,” Glen said sarcastically.

“You two are like tech geniuses. Can’t you track their phones instead?”

“No,” the two said in unison.

“Their phones need to have a signal or at least switched on to be tracked.” Aram explain.

“Crap.” Liz ran her fingers through her hair and that’s when Aram caught a glimpse of something sparkling.

“Uhh Liz,” he started. “Please don’t take this the wrong way but why are you still wearing your wedding ring? I thought you and Tom already divorced?”

“What?!” Liz immediately looked at her left hand and on her ring finger sat the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. There was a small but elegant ring with old mine cut diamonds and emeralds. _How in the world have I not noticed this?_ “This… this isn’t my wedding ring.”

“Oh.”

“Looks like someone got hitched in Vegas,” Glen said suggestively.

“I didn’t get married!” Liz denied. “Not that I know of.” She added as an afterthought.

“You definitely got married, sister, and my bet is you got married to none other than Reddington.,” Glen smugly replied.

“Oh. Congratulations Liz. I hope there are pictures.” Aram said.

Liz couldn’t tell if he’s joking or not. “For the last time, I. Didn’t. Get. Married.”

“Keep telling yourself that Mrs. Reddington.”

“Ugh!” Liz threw her hands up in the air in frustration. She really wished this was all just a weird dream and she’s gonna wake up alone in her apartment.

The phone suddenly started ringing. “Uhh guys someone’s calling.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know. It’s a blocked number.”

“Well don’t just stare at it son, answer it!” Glen urged.

Aram hit the answer button. “Uhh hello?”

"Agent Ressler?"

"Uhh no, this isn't Agent Ressler."

"Who's this?"

"Uhm Aram Mojtabai?"

"Agent Mojtabai? This is Cynthia Panabaker. What the hell is going on?" Panabaker cried through the phone.

"I was hoping you could shed some light on that."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm in Las Vegas with Agent Keen and an associate of Mr. Reddington named Glen Carter. We have no clue why we're here…"

"Because we’re supposed to catch this blacklister Reddington gave you!” Glen yelled.

“Aram give me the phone,” Liz ordered. “Mrs. Panabaker this is Agent Keen. Is Cooper there with you?”

"No! Why do you think I’m calling Agent Mojtabai? I’ve been trying to get ahold of everyone. I’ve been manning the blacksite for two days now because you all seemed to have turned off your phones and mysteriously disappeared off the grid,” Panabaker laughed and Liz wondered the woman is going mad. “It's like a ghost town in here.”

"Yeah well it's like the twilight zone out here."

“After that explosion you all caused last Thursday night, I sent Harold to find out what's going on but like everyone, he also disappeared."

“What explosion?”

“I suggest you turn on the television or try to look it up in the internet or whatever it is these teenagers do these days to stay up-to-date.”

Liz motioned for Aram to turn on the television and switched to the news channel. After a minute the news anchor brought up the explosion again in Las Vegas.

“We caused that explosion?”

“Of course! Who else?” Panabaker scoffed. “We’re trying to cover it up without getting the four of you into trouble.”

“Four?”

“Yes. You and Agent Mojtabai plus Agents Ressler and Navabi.”

“Ressler and Samar were with us?”

“Have you suddenly gone deaf Agent Keen?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that we have no clue where they are.”

“Well, me either. Find the others, Agent Keen, and report immediately back to me.”

“Yes ma’am." Liz hung up the phone and gave it back to Aram. "Don't lose that."

"Is Samar alright?" Aram asked.

"Panabaker said she’s with us along with Ressler, most probably Reddington and Dembe too. Cooper followed us eventually but he also seemed to have disappeared.”

"Fantastic!" Glen snapped.

"We all want to know what happened so we should regularly check the news for updates and hopefully that'll lead us to the others."

"Why should I be concerned about your pals?" Glen asked.

"Well I don't know about your pockets but mine is empty and if we want to get back to DC, we'll need money. The others could have our wallets or at least the money for a flight home."

"Damn," Glen muttered under his breath.

"Exactly so shut up and do as I say."

 

* * *

 

 

"At least we know some maniac didn't drug us," Samar sighed checking Cooper’s phone for updates.

"That's debatable," Donald snapped.

"Shut it Captain America or I'll knock you out," Red warned.

"Boys, don't make me be the adult here."

Ressler plopped down on the couch next to Samar silently while Red took the chair across from them.

"Ok, I've reached the first texts Cooper got before he left."

"So what happened?" Ressler asked.

"Cooper texted Cynthia Panabaker that Reddington is finally gonna give us a blacklister and that he’s meeting us in the Post Office."

"Obviously, but I meant what else happened?"

"Nothing good."

 

 


	6. Drunk by Noon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a very interesting day so here's another chapter :)

**Thursday Afternoon**

Donald was pacing the office he and Liz share. It’s been 15 minutes since he called her and he’s worried Reddington might not show up again. He pulled out his phone and was about to call Liz when he heard the elevator doors opened.

“What the—”

The two were whispering and giggling like drunk teenagers. Dembe was walking behind them pretty much sporting the same look.

“Are they drunk?” Samar asked Donald.

Liz spotted the two and bounced towards them. She laid a kiss on both of Donald’s cheeks and hugged Samar while crying out “Heya girlfriend!”

Red wasn't far behind slapping Donald on the ass and embracing Samar as well.

"What is happening?" Aram asked coming out of the pantry holding a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"I think they’re drunk," Ressler replied.

"They don’t smell drunk.” Samar said.

"Dembe what is happening with these two?"

“I’m gonna go get coffee.” The tall black man goofily smiled at them and went over to the pantry.

“Well, that was helpful.”

Red clapped his hands together and Liz giggled again beside him. “Donald! Where is our guest of honor?”

“Who?”

“Harold Cooper, who else? Try to keep up, Donald!” He said with so much enthusiasm.

“I’m gonna go tell him you’re here.” Samar said already retreating towards Cooper’s office upstairs.

“Wait! I’m coming with you!” Ressler ran after her. “What do we tell Cooper?” He whispered as they climb up the stairs.

“Nothing. Just tell him Reddington’s here to brief us about our next blacklister.”

“But they’re drunk!”

“They’re not. They don’t smell of booze.”

“Maybe they’re on drugs.”

Samar looked at him like he’s drunk as well. “You do know that Liz would never do that.”

“You forget that she’s always around Reddington.”

Samar sighed. _This is going to be a long day._ “Let’s just talk to Cooper, okay?”

They both entered the office to see Cooper on the phone while pacing the office. He held up a finger and motioned for the two to sit down. A few minutes later, he ended the call. “Please tell me you have some good news.”

“We do. Reddington and Keen are downstairs at the bullpen.” Samar said.

“Finally,” Cooper stood up and buttoned his coat. “Let’s go.”

“Uhh sir,” Ressler stopped him. “Before we go down, we just want to warn you. Reddington and Keen are acting weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Reddington slapped my ass, sir.” The agents then burst into giggles.

“What?”

“And Liz called me ‘heya girlfriend!’,” Samar imitated Liz’s high-pitched voice. Both agents snickered at each other.

“Downstairs, now!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Aram sat in front of his computer while Red hovered behind him. Liz followed Dembe into the pantry while Ressler and Samar were still in Cooper’s office.

"Uhm hello Mr. Reddington," Aram greeted the master criminal. “Do you want to take a seat?”

“Oh no I’m okay standing. Thank you for offering Aram,” Red said shaking his head vigorously. “It is an absolute mystery to me how these gadgets work—the Dick Tracey phones, these blueteeth connections. Quite frankly, I miss the rotary phone. Except for that zero. Watching that zero crawl back. Oh, my God. It was painful.

“Uhh it’s actually called Bluetooth,” Aram corrected.

“What if you have many bluetooth?”

“It’s still called Bluetooth.”

“Really?” Aram just nodded. “Look, I’m a technological moron. I just don’t get it, which is why I surround myself with people who do.”

“It’s okay Mr. Reddington. I could teach you how. It’s really easy.”

Red waved a hand. “Don’t bother Aram. Besides, I have no time for Twittering or Face-whatever.”

“It’s Twitter and Facebook.”

“See?!” Red gestured his hand towards the computer screen. “I sometimes feel as if I should pay more attention to pop culture. Lizzie made me watch Star Wars two days ago and I’m honestly baffled. There’s this giant in a somewhat bear costume whom they call Chewbacca piloting an aircraft and a little green guy who speaks in riddles and is considerably too short to be effective in a swordfight. I say a silent prayer of thanks for Tolstoy’s moral crisis.”

“You and Agent Keen watched the entire Star Wars series?” Aram asked completely awed and secretly miffed at Liz for not inviting him to a Star Wars marathon. He would’ve been the perfect guide for Mr. Reddington.

Before Red could answer, Cooper appeared along with Donald and Samar who are now both looking stoned out of their minds.

“Reddington. Good of you to finally show up.”

“Harold!” Red approached Cooper and hugged him tightly. The tall man visibly flinched at the sudden contact. Donald and Samar snickered behind. “You feel so tense Harold. Loosen up a little!”

“I will only loosen up if you tell me you have a blacklister for us.” Cooper thought Ressler and Navabi were just fooling around but Reddington really looked stoned out of his mind today.

“Fret not Harold, for what I’m about to give you is not your run-of-the-mill blacklister,” Red patted him on the back.

“Where’s Agent Keen?”

“Present!” Liz cried as she skipped towards the group. She’s carrying two cups of coffee and Cooper wondered how in the world the contents didn’t spill. Liz handed the other cup to Red. “What did I miss?”

“You were just in time.” Red beamed at her while taking a sip. He inwardly grimaced at the taste. “We were just about to get started.”

Dembe soon came in holding four cups of coffee. He handed the three cups to the other agents, including Cooper who looked shocked as hell, and went to the other side of the room as he usually do.

“I thought you hate the coffee from the pantry?” Donald said to Red.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’ve blatantly made it known to all of us in every way possible.”

“Since when?”

“Since Keen made you that same coffee a year ago!”

“You must’ve ch—”

“Enough!” Cooper stated with as much authority as he could. “If all of you won’t stop bickering like twelve year olds, there’ll be no more caffeine in this place in the foreseeable future!”

“Fine by me,” Red mumbled. “Tastes like crap anyway.”

“See?! He hates that coffee!” Ressler argued again.

“WHAT. DID. I. JUST. SAY?”

Samar patted him on the back. “Sorry.”

“And you,” Cooper pointed at Red. “Start talking or I’ll shove you into The Box and you’ll never see the sun shine ever again.”

“Geez, Harold. Did Charlene make you sleep on the couch today?”

“NOW.”

“Okay, okay,” Red held up his hands in surrender. “The next name on the blacklist is someone who calls himself The Riddler.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Present**

“Well that’s it.” Samar turned the phone off. “After the explosion, Panabaker asked Cooper to find us and the last text he sent was ‘I found them. On my way there now.’ and then he probably disappeared too.”

“Crap.” Donald sighed. “We’ll never get out of this mess. If we don’t find Cooper and get back to DC we’ll be branded as fugitives!”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Red said and Donald glared at him. “Apart from avoiding being seen by the public.”

“Don’t talk to me Reddington or I swear I’ll fling you off the top of this building.”

“Look at your face right now Donald! Wish I could take a picture of—”

“Wait! Everyone quiet!” Samar hissed.

“Did you hear something?” Donald reflexively reached for his gun and found nothing. “Ugh. Wish my gun was at least with me.” He mumbled.

“No doofus, I’m thinking,” Samar pulled out the phone again and started looking at Cooper’s photo gallery. “Aha!”

“What? What is it?”

“It was a long shot but I hoped Cooper at least took some photos and I was right!” Samar said smugly.

“Well?” Red urged her on.

"Okay so everyone is acting goofy. Ressler kept hugging random people, something I'm happy I can't remember oh wait, there's a video. Wonderful. Aram and I doing body shots off… damn. A stripper." Samar groaned and continued on. "Dembe and a bald little man cheering us and…"

"What?" Donald asked peering over Samar's shoulder. "Oh!"

"What?" Red was nervous. His and Lizzie’s name are the only ones that weren’t mentioned. He jumped up and tried to peek at the phone but Samar wouldn't let him.

"My!" Samar cried.

"What?!" Red leaned forward over the back of the couch trying to get the phone. Finally, he flipped over, knocked the phone out of Samar's hand with his foot, and quickly looked at the photo. "Oh shit!"

 


	7. Put a Ring on It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited chapter 5 bc I just found out that Red and the others already have Aram's phone in chapter 2. This is what happens when you try to write a story when you're dead tired and out of your mind lol.

 

**Thursday Night**

 

Dembe dragged Glen inside the jet where Liz, Red, and Donald had gathered along with Aram and Samar who were now sporting the same silly grin as the rest of them. The uneasiness Glen felt quickly melted away into euphoria. Pretty soon everyone was in a state of mellow that hadn't been seen since the 70's.

Even though Red’s jet can carry 10 passengers, Liz still took up residence on Red’s lap. Samar was sprawled out on Donald and Aram's laps even allowing Donald to play with her feet, Dembe and Glen were busy playing Jenga which was pointless because it kept crumbling during the first turn.

"Why don't we do this more often?" Samar asked as she ran her fingers through Aram's hair.

"I don't know," Aram replied with a giggle. "Know is a fun word."

"Nnnnnnoooooooo!" Samar bellowed.

"NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!" Glen howled as the tower of wooden blocks fell again.

"See! The little man likes it too," Samar said pointing to where Glen is.

Donald whipped out his phone and started taking selfies. “I’m gonna put this up on my Instagram. Hashtag travel in style. Kinda sucks Cooper isn’t with us.”

“You have an Instagram?” Samar asked.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Uhh me? And Reddington? And like everybody here?”

“Reddington’s a wanted criminal. He can’t have an Instagram.”

“What’s an Instagram?’ Red mumbled to Liz.

“It’s like Facebook but you only post photos.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s okay,” Liz patted Red’s hand.

“I have an Instagram too!” Aram piped in.

“Honey, yours doesn’t count. It’s just an Instagram full of dog photos.”

"I need a drink!" Liz announced jumping up from Red's lap and kicking Samar in the shoulder. "Sorry girlfriend."

"I'm going with you!" Red announced quickly bouncing behind Liz.

"Diet and vodka," Liz told the woman behind the minibar.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look?”

Liz blushed a deep shade of red. “I think you already have—so many times.”

Red grabbed her by the waist and planted a sloppy kiss on her.

Her eyes rolled about her head like a cartoon character for a second and when she gained her composure she kissed him back. The two started a full on make out session by the minibar.

Donald watched the whole event happen and in the back of his mind he should intervene but his good mood wouldn't let him voice his concern or give it anymore thought. He aimed his camera towards them and snapped a few photos instead. “Cooper’s missing out a lot here.”

“Yeah, he should’ve come with us.” Aram said.

“I’m gonna send him a photo of us. C’mon quick! Let’s take a groupie!”

“A what?” Samar asked.

“Just sit up and smile for the camera!” Donald aimed the camera at them and clicked a few shots. “Damn, I looked good.”

“Send it to Cooper! Tell him to catch the next flight!” Aram giddily said.

Donald scrolled through the photos to look for the perfect photo to send Cooper. As he was about to click the photo, Samar waggled her butt and fell to the floor.

“Ow my ass.”

“A nice ass.” Aram complimented and Samar beamed at him.

Donald hadn’t realized he sent a different photo to Cooper.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Present**

 

“How the hell did that end up in Harold’s phone? He’s not even with us at that time!” Red snapped.

“Someone sent it. Hold on let me check,” Samar looked at the details of the photo. “It’s… uhh… Ressler.”

Red was fuming now. Samar had seen the man intimidate other people with that look but this is on a whole new different level. The skin under his left eye is twitching furiously. She glanced worriedly at Donald. Her fellow agent is walking on thin ice here.

Instead of saying sorry, Donald stood his ground and puffed out his chest. “You were taking advantage of her drugged state!”

“If I recall correctly, we were all drugged at that time. Reddington and Liz probably more.” Samar said.

“What? You’re defending him now? He’s a criminal!” He spat the last word.

Red finally cracked. It was enough. He lunged across the room and onto Donald where he wrapped his hands around Donald's neck and squeezed with every fiber of strength he had. “You stupid… asinine… nosy… bastard!”

Donald was thrashing around trying to get Red off of him but Red had pinned him down to the floor and all he could do was tap the floor in a feeble attempt of surrender.

“Okay Reddington that’s enough now,” Samar said.

“Didn’t it ever occur to your pea-sized brain that maybe Elizabeth and I are in a consensual relationship? That she’s a strong, independent, intelligent woman capable of making her own decisions? She. Doesn’t. Need. Your. Approval.”

Samar sighed and crossed the room. She grabbed Red by the back of the neck and pulled him off the wheezing agent. “Enough!”

“You tried to kill me!” Donald wheezed.

“Unsuccessfully,” Red said while straightening up. “I don’t even know what your problem is! We were just kissing! People who are attracted to each other tend to do that Donald.”

“If shoving tongues down each other’s throat is what you call kissing,” Samar said. “Then I don’t even want to know what you both did in the closet.”

“Uhh… what?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Thursday Night**

 

"Let's go over here," Liz whispered pulling Red into the closet behind the minibar. She pushed him up against the wall and resumed her lip-assault. Not that Red was complaining. After a minute she pulled away leaving him whimpering. "Can I tell you a secret?"

He nodded vigorously, "Uh huh."

"Samar’s having doubts about the wedding."

"She doesn’t want to marry Aram? But he’s a very nice guy."

"No it’s not that. It’s the other way around."

"Aram doesn’t want to marry her?"

“No silly!” Liz pinched Red’s cheeks. “She thinks Aram’s way too good for her.”

Red looked pensive for a moment. “I know how that feels.”

“What do you mean?” Liz scrunched up her nose in a way that always melts his insides.

“I don’t think I deserve this,” he gestured to the tiny space between them. “I don’t think I deserve you.”

Liz’s eyes started to water. “Oh you silly man!” She placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “We both deserve each other.”

“You think so?” Red asked.

“I do. Hundred percent positive.” Then an idea formed inside her head. “Answer me honestly Red, do you love me?”

Red chuckled. “Sweetheart, of course I do. Always and forever. Nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you too,” Liz beamed at him. "Let's get married."

Red's eyes went wide and his mind raced trying to grasp what she was saying. "What?"

"Las Vegas. You. Me. Right now, when this plane lands."

"Sweetheart do you even know what you’re talking about?"

"Oh I know,” Liz grasped his hand. “Hundred percent positive.”

“I’m a wanted criminal.”

“Who’ll be getting his immunity deal once this shit is over.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people.”

“So have I.” Red was trying to form an argument but Liz shushed him up. “Look, you love me and I love you. It’s that simple.”

“It’s not that simple Lizzie. I… I don’t even have a ring with me right now! I want this to be right!”

“Screw that! I’m not some sacred Disney princess waiting for her prince charming to kneel down on one knee and profess his undying love for her even though they’ve only met for like two hours.”

“You got some issues there.”

“Says the man who thinks Master Yoda isn’t capable of winning a fight.” Liz grinned at his confused face.

"I'm not following anything that is happening right now."

"Just say yes Red," Liz was on the verge of going down on one knee if only the tight spaced closet would allow it. “Can’t believe I’m the one proposing! Times have really changed.”

Red stared at her like Liz just grew some butterfly wings on her back.

“C’mon Red! It's a beautiful night and we're looking for something dumb to do…"

"Those are lyrics to a song."

"How did you know?"

“I’ve heard Aram play it a couple of times.”

Liz shook her head and laughed. "What have we got to lose?"

Her job, his immunity deal, practically both their lives. But Red just shrugged. "Nothing."

"So?" Liz pressed.

"Sew buttons."

"What the hell does…"

"Let's do it."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Present**

 

Aram decided to browse Donald’s phone to look for some clues and a tiny part of his brain also wanted to know what’s inside his phone. After sorting through the messages, he went over to the gallery. “Oh.”

“What?”

“There are photos of us." Aram said as he scrolled through the gallery. “Although most it was just Ressler’s selfies.”

“Is there anything that can give us clues?” Liz asked.

“Wait. I’m gonna scroll back to the top. There are a couple of selfies again and—oh,” Aram’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

“What is it?”

“It’s a uhh… it’s a photo of uhh…”

“Just spit it kid!” Glen yelled.

“It’s a photo of you and Mr. Reddington!” Aram shoved the phone to Liz.

Glen craned his neck a bit higher to see the photo. “Oh wow. You two sure like to keep it public huh?”

“Oh crap.” Liz feels extremely embarrassed now but she has to admit, Red and her looked so good together. Checking the last photo which was the two of them ducking into a nearby closet, she saw that the photo was forwarded. “Oh double crap.”

“Please tell there are no other compromising photos in there,” Glen said.

“No. Ressler sent the photo to Cooper.” Liz was sweating now despite the suite being fully air-conditioned. _Surely it can’t get worse than this?_ Scrolling through the photos, her heart nearly tore out of her chest. “Oh mega crap.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Aram.

Liz shakily placed the phone on the end table and sat on the couch. She then proceeded to stare at the empty space on the wall.

“Liz are you okay?” Aram waved a hand in front of her face. No response. “What happened to her?”

Glen started howling on the other side, Donald’s phone in one hand. “This happened to her.” He shoved the phone to a confused Aram.

“Oh. So that’s why there’s a ring on her finger.”

 

 


	8. With a Bang!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is taking longer than I intended lol

 

**Thursday Midnight**

 

The plane had landed on a private airstrip owned by one of Red’s associates. Dembe, Donald and Aram started loading their things into the trunk of the cars.

"Where are Liz and Reddington going?" Samar asked.

"They're probably getting snacks," Glen answered.

"No they're walking out the door." Aram said.

Samar and Donald both snapped their attention to the door where they caught a glimpse of Liz's shoe as she and Red bolted for the street. "Oh crap!" they said in unison. Samar had her phone out first and she frantically dialed Liz's number.

"Hiya girlfriend!" Liz called through the phone.

"Where are you?"

"In a cab. Don't worry. I'm with Red."

"Yeah that's not really comforting. Where are you going?"

"In a church! Gotta go!"

Samar slipped the phone back into her purse and smacked Donald on the shoulder. "We need to go."

"Where?"

"In a church."

"What?"

"I'll explain in the cab." She grabbed Donald by the arm and pulled him towards the door.

“Can I come?” Aram asked.

“No, you stay here with the others and track them!” Samar shouted back already halfway out the door. “Call me when you found them!”

"Where are they going?" Dembe asked as he rejoined the others left inside the hangar.

"In a church," Glen answered.

"I see. Why?"

"Following Reddington and his woman."

Dembe nodded.

"Going after them?" Glen asked.

"Not yet. I want to see how this plays out."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Ready to call it a night sir?" One of the guards stationed by the elevator asked Cooper. The Post Office looked nearly as empty without special his agents.

“I think so,” He smiled at the guard. As Cooper was waiting for the elevator doors to open, he checked his phone to see if there are any messages and saw that there are two. He checked the screen and saw Donald’s name. Probably an update. He nearly dropped the phone when he opened the message and saw Liz and Red’s photo. “What the hell?”

“You okay sir?” The guard asked, noticing the sudden change in his superior’s expression.

“No, I don’t think I’m not ready to call it a night,” Cooper doubled back towards the bullpen while dialing Donald’s number at the same time.

“Yo boss!” Donald called through the phone.

“What on earth is happening there?”

“Oh we’re chasing Keen and Reddington!”

“You what? Where are you and why are you chasing them?" Cooper nearly screamed.

"We’re in Las Vegas! Gosh it’s so bright here!” Donald chirped. “Keen and Reddington got into a cab about twenty minutes ago. Samar said they’re going to a church,” he explained then hung up the phone.

Cooper stared at the screen blankly for a few minutes. “Call Panabaker!” he ordered one of the remaining agents there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Present**

 

“I still don’t understand how it happened,” Liz still sat on the couch wracking her brain out trying to remember what happened after they touched down in Nevada. “And the explosion! How did we cause it?”

“Piece of advice: stop trying and just let it go,” Glen said as he flop on the couch next to her. “Look on the bright side! You’re now Mrs. Reddington! Think of all the power that name has!”

“Gee thanks. Might as well paint a target on my back,” Liz said. “Aram, what’s next on the photos?”

“I think you guys were in a casino,” Aram showed a selfie of Donald with poker chips stuffed in his mouth. “And—oh shit.”

“Please stop saying ‘oh shit’, you’re making me really nervous.”

“I think I know who caused the explosion.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Thursday Midnight-ish**

 

Samar and Donald finally caught up to the two just as the ceremony has ended. “You got married!” The two said in unison.

“Yes!” Liz squealed and showed them the wedding ring on her finger which Red got for her when they stopped over at a jewelry store on the way over to the chapel.

“Congrats!” Samar hugged the two while Donald took some photos.

“Cooper’s gonna flip when he sees this.”

“Screw Harold! This calls for a celebration!” Red clapped his hands together. “I know an excellent place!”

The four of strolled inside Club Dynamo and Red immediately ordered the bartender to serve two scotch and two Cosmos and to keep it coming. He pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to the man.

"So what do we do now?" Liz asked.

“We party!” Donald shouted over the loud music. “C’mon Reddington! Let’s play some blackjack!” He dragged him over to a table and started playing.

Samar took a step back and bumped into the guy next to her. "Oops. Sorry."

"Quite alright, no harm done," he replied with a smile.

"Do I know you?"

"I don't think so."

"You look super familiar," Liz joined in.

"Oh, well you may recognize me from TV. I'm Anthony Hopkins."

"Holy crap it's Hannibal Lecter!" Samar cried.

"Yes, I played Hannibal Lecter in the film adaptation of The Silence of the Lambs," he beamed.

"I liked you on Westworld. You were so sinister and smart!” Liz said.

"Can I buy you ladies a drink?"

"Thanks but we already have two," Samar replied.

"So you ladies know who I am but I didn't catch your names."

"Oh, well, I'm Samar, and this is Liz."

"Pleasure. Well ladies, what are we doing tonight?"

“We’re celebrating! I just married!” Liz showed off her wedding ring.

“Congratulations, Liz. And who is the lucky man?”

“He’s over there,” she pointed to where Red and Donald is. “Oh crap. What is happening now?”

Donald is arguing with two of the club’s bouncers while Red is talking to what Liz thinks is the manager. “What are you two doing?” Liz, Samar and Anthony Hopkins approached the two men.

“This crapface here thinks I’m cheating just because I’m on a winning streak!” Donald pointed to the manager.

“I’ve been telling them that Donald could never cheat on a blackjack. He’s too dumb for that,” Red explained.

“Hey! I thought you were on my side?”

“Of course I am! What the hell do you think I’m doing here?”

“It would be better if you would all just leave,” the manager said as he grabbed Liz’s arm.

“Hey! Keep your hands off my wife!” Red punched the manager in the face. And then all hell broke loose.

Empty glasses and chairs were flying everywhere. The rest of the patrons have started leaving while some are taking videos of the fight. One of the bouncers threw Donald towards the bar where he knocked off a lot of bottles off the rack. Donald grabbed a bottle, stuffed a towel in it then lighted it up. He then took out his phone and started recording himself.

“Mazel tov!” He threw the bottle towards the bouncer but it missed.

“It’s a Molotov, you dumbass!” Red shouted.

"I know! I'm trying to congratulate you guys!"

"But we're not even Jewish!"

“Oh my God! The place is on fire!” Liz said.

“That’s it. We’re out!” Samar grabbed Donald and Anthony Hopkins and yelled, “Liz! Grab your husband and let’s get out of here!”

"Wooohooo! That was crazy!" Samar cheered as they all try to catch their breaths. They’re all standing in front of The Venetian.

"I didn’t know you had it in you Donald! Our straight A agent just went Dudley Smith on us!" Red said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Donald said as he dusted off a few dirt on is coat. “Holy crap, look at all these chips!"

"We should go shopping," Liz said.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a better idea," Anthony Hopkins said. “A hotel party.”

“All right Dr. Lecter!” Donald cheered. Samar and Liz both squealed.

"But first, let's all grab something to eat first," Hopkins said. "And a change of clothes too."

“I’m gonna get us a room!” Red ran for the front desk.

“Hello Mr. Reddington! Good to see you back in The Venetian!” The concierge greeted.

Red looked at the concierge’s name tag. "Hello Jonathan! We need a suite and a table for five at Tao."

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Present**

 

“Holy shit,” Donald slumped on the couch. “I can’t believe I blew up a club! My life is officially over.”

“And here I thought I was the drama queen,” Red mused.

“I still don’t understand why the others are still missing?” Samar said. “We left them at the hangar so they should still be there. And why is Liz also missing?”

“I’m beginning to worry about that too.”

“I blew up a club,” Donald said dejectedly. “What if I got someone killed?”

“Possible but I highly doubt it,” Samar said. “The news said there were no fatalities.”

“Yet,” Red said. “I’d open a bottle of champagne for you Donald but I don’t think I can drink anything with alcohol in it anymore.”

 "Same," Samar agreed as she scrolled through the remaining photos in Cooper's gallery. "I'm nearing the end of the photos."

"And?"

"Well Cooper got here, that's for sure. He's in another party with us but after that there's nothing."

"Have we checked all the other spaces here? We might've stuffed his dead carcass somewhere." Donald laughed hysterically.

"I think Ressler's cracking up."

"He's fine. He's a grown man," Red said. "I miss Dembe. We could've solve this already if he was here."

"Dembe was here."

"But where is he?"

"Hell if I know?"

"I was asking nicely."

"Sorry," Samar said and she noticed Donald curling in a fetal position on the floor. "We need to find Cooper and the others ASAP or Captain America here will turn into Captain Hydra."

"I don't understand the reference."

"Of course you don't Reddington," Samar patted him on the shoulder.

 


End file.
